If Only
by trestresfruity
Summary: Morgan decides to rummage through one Dr. Reid's messenger bag... What will he find? Rated T to be safe.


**A/N: Hope y'all enjoy this story! I know this type of story has been done before (quite a bit, actually), but I'm easing back into the whole fanfiction thing, and I really wanted to take a swing at it! This probably takes place around season 5 or 6, but before JJ left (I miss her so much!). Oh, and this doesn't reflect a real case. I'm just making stuff up here. Could be preslash…?**

**Well, that's it. Enjoy! **

**DISCLAIMER: Don't own Criminal Minds, though I wish I did**

Morgan had been waiting. Waiting, patiently. When the idea first struck him, it had seemed simple enough. How hard could it be to get a damn bag? Apparently, however, it was going to be much more difficult than he had first guessed. Reid carried the leather satchel around with him _everywhere_, and his hand never left the worn strap. The only time he did put the thing down was when he was sitting next to it, and Morgan had to grab it when Reid wasn't looking.

But, one night in Florida, when Morgan and Reid were sharing rooms, Morgan finally got his opportunity. The team had flown in to catch an unsub who had been killing middle-aged women with fabulously wealthy husbands. They were working tirelessly on the case, but they weren't getting anywhere. Hotch, seeing how tired the team was, ordered them back to the hotel to get a good night's rest and come back better tomorrow. They were staying in a small town, and the hotel only had three vacant rooms, so Morgan and Reid had to share. Reid looked slightly displeased at this, but didn't say anything. Morgan, however, despite his statement in Alaska, was excited. Finally, he would get his opportunity to search that satchel.

Reid must have been more tired than Morgan had originally thought because when they reached their room, he tossed the leather bag to the ground, mumbled, "Shower," and then left Morgan, alone, in the room with the bag. Morgan paused for a moment, his eyes lingering on the worn leather bag, and then launched forward and grabbed it. Hell, this may be his only chance to look through the contents.

Sitting on the bed, Morgan gently pushed the top flap up, as if it were a piece of evidence from the case. What he first saw surprised him. There were case files and crime scene photos in there, sure, but they were neatly placed in an expanding file folder, with labels and colored tabs. Morgan should've guessed that Reid would be anal about his things, especially if they related to his job, but this was a little overboard. Morgan carefully thumbed past the folder and reached deeper into the bag. He found Reid's glasses case, which was black and scuffed. He opened it to reveal his glasses, which Reid hadn't worn in years. Morgan chuckled when he remembered how nerdy the kid looked when he had worn those. Nerdy, but cute. He closed the case and placed it back in its proper location.

Morgan's heart started when he heard a thump coming from the bathroom and was about to throw the bag back where it belonged, but he quickly realized that Reid was just being clumsy. He took a deep breath to steady his racing heart, and then continued his perusal of the leather bag. A thick, hardcover book lay at the bottom of the bag, and Morgan took it out to look at it. On the green cover, the words "_Cien años de soledad_" were written in black ballpoint, in Reid's familiar scrawl. It was an old edition, and the book jacket had obviously fallen off a while back. Morgan muttered, "Why is Reid reading _A Hundred Years of Solitude_ in Spanish?" Morgan knew the answer however, and placed the book back into the bag. So far, Morgan was entirely unsurprised about what lay in the bag. Perhaps this had been a waste of time. Regardless, Morgan continued.

Next, he pulled out a stack of photos held together by two colored rubber bands. He pulled the rubber bands off with a snap and then flipped through the photos. A few of them were of the team, in the few occasions that they took pictures. Some were of Las Vegas, various places that Morgan didn't recognize. One picture was of Reid's mother smiling at the camera, holding up a peace sign. Morgan chuckled and flipped past. The next picture was of Morgan and Reid, on one of the rare nights Morgan convinced Reid to come out and "show the ladies what Pretty Boy was capable of". Reid was smiling goofily up at the camera and Morgan was flashing his white teeth, his arm wrapped around Reid's waist. On the back of the photo, Reid had scribbled the date. Morgan smiled and re-wrapped the photos, putting them back in the bag.

Morgan continued his search of the bag. He next pulled out a small notebook, roughly the size of his outstretched hand. The notebook had a leather cover and was held closed by a small bone clasp. He slowly opened the notebook, and looked at the contents. He had expected notes about cases, honestly. Instead, the pages were covered in drawings in the scribbly and colorful style of the genius. There were creatures that didn't exist, people they had met on cases, and various objects. Morgan smiled at the drawings, and then put the book back into the satchel.

As Morgan continued to scrounge the bag, he felt his fingers wrap around something small and cold. An iPod. Morgan smirked and looked at the device. He scrolled through the songs. Unsurprisingly, there was a ton of classical music. Surprisingly, there was also practically every rap song that Morgan had on his iPod. The thought of Reid listening to rap didn't fit in Morgan's mind. Shaking his head, Morgan returned the iPod.

Then Morgan found something in the bag that seemed out of place. A crumpled napkin. He pulled out the napkin, and unfolded it. On the napkin, the swirly scrawl of a girl read: _855-627-3333 call me – Macey_.

"Damn," Morgan muttered, "kid's got game." He was interrupted, however, by the sound of the bathroom door opening. Reid was wearing a pair of checkered pajama pants and a grey t-shirt, rubbing a towel his wet hair. Reid stopped at the sight before him. Morgan was sitting on the bed, holding a crumpled napkin, the satchel open before him.

"…Morgan? What are you doing?" Reid asked, a rather dumb question for a genius.

"Uh… nothing?" Morgan said quickly, shoving the napkin back into the bag.

Reid clacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and said, "You can throw that away. I'm not going to call her."

Morgan cocked his eyebrow, taking out the napkin again. "Why not? Judging from her handwriting, she's hot."

Reid snorted and then said, "'Hotness' can't be judged from handwriting. And that's not it. Just toss it." Morgan fingered the cheap napkin for a moment more before stuffing it back in the bag.

"Whatever you say kid, it can't hurt to have it just a little longer. You might want it later." With that, Morgan put the bag back on the ground, gone through most of it. He pulled back the covers of his bed, lay down and pulled them back over himself.

Reid stared at his sleeping form for a moment and then muttered, "No, I won't." He reached down to his satchel, pulled the napkin and tossed it in the trash bin. He shoved his arm down to the bottom of the bag, pulling out what he hoped Morgan hadn't found. It was a gift Garcia had given him for his last birthday, when she had found it his feelings for Morgan.

It was a small photo that had been taken a while back, when at the movies. Morgan had been joking around, and Reid had played along. Morgan had nestled his face in the crook of Reid's neck, and Reid made a shocked face, looking at the camera. Garcia had the photo framed in a small heart. When she had given it to him, she said, "For when one of you two finally caves and confesses."

Reid smiled at the memory and murmured into the darkness, "If only."

**A/N: So… I always try to write something sweet/funny, yet I always end up with something sad… What does this say about me? Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it, and please review!**


End file.
